Rook

picked up too much scrapage from Norman’s harshly scaled mouth. Myfanwy shuddered at the thought and felt a moment of pity for Thomas, who hadn’t been so lucky.
Locked to that mouth, feeling your thoughts slurped out.
    “I think so,” said Myfanwy. “I was able to take Norman out before he could tamper with my memories. And I was checked by the medical team in the Apex afterward, bringing my number of hospital visits today to three.”
    “Are you certain you don’t want me to stay in the Rookery with you?” asked Ingrid.
    “No, it’s fine,” insisted Myfanwy. “Once I’m back, the entire place is going into lockdown for the rest of the night. I’m planning to go straight up to the residence, fall into bed, and stay there for many, many hours. Unless there’s a whole rash of flesh-cubey things across the nation, I don’t want to get any wake-up calls.”
    Ingrid nodded, smiling.
    When the car finally deposited her at the basement entrance, Myfanwy paused.
    “I’m really glad you’re all right, Ingrid,” she said. “Best moment of my life, when they told me you were alive.”
    “Thank you, Rook Thomas,” said Ingrid. The two women clasped hands, and then Myfanwy waved good-bye to her assistant.
    One of the security guards approached her diffidently. “Rook Thomas, we’re ready to go into lockdown,” he said quietly. “The watch office has set up a center in the Apex, so it will just be you and the security staff once you give the word.”
    “Close it up, please,” she said and yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. The guard nodded and signaled to his compatriot in the booth. Heavy metal shutters began to slide down inside the garage door. She reminded herself to activate the security systems for the Rooks’ private passages—at least the ones that she knew about. She wondered if she should worry about Grantchester’s other secret entrances and decided to sleep in the guest room of the residence. Maybe she would put some cans in front of the door.
    The halls of the Rookery were dim as Myfanwy walked toward her office. A few security guards on their rounds nodded to her, but for the most part, she enjoyed the quiet privacy of the building. In the weeks since she’d arrived at the Checquy, the place had come to feel like home.
    I think it’s all going to work out,
thought Myfanwy.
I can keep my secrets. I just need to figure out how to explain everything without admitting that I lost my memory. But I’ll do that over a very late breakfast. I don’t care if it’s three in the afternoon when I wake up. I am going to order the biggest, most glorious English breakfast in the history of mankind, and I am going to eat it in the living room, looking out at my gorgeous view. I’ll come up with a tight, rational explanation for all of this. Then I’ll call Bronwyn so we can make plans to meet up with my brother. And then I’m going to call a decorator and get the entire residence redone. We’ll knock through walls and check for all the secret little passages.
    But first, I am going to bed.
    She was humming as she opened her office door and turned on the lights. She was totally unprepared to find a massive, dripping, naked man seated behind her desk.
    “Good evening, Rook Myfanwy Thomas. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Graaf Ernst von Suchtlen.”
    M yfanwy stared at him.
Of course this happened,
she thought wearily.
After the longest day and night in recorded history, of course there’s a naked man in my office. And he’s a Grafter.
    Well, at least this one’s got his skin on, if nothing else.
    “So, where did you spring from?” Myfanwy asked casually, spinning out tendrils of her mind to ensnare the nervous system of the naked Belgian. It was an effort. After her nightmarish snogging session with Norman, her brain was tired. Still, she was surprised when her powers slid off his flesh.
He’s the boss,
she thought.
He’s got the best system they can design. Maybe de Leeuwen would have had the same immunity if he’d had the chance to grow some skin.
    “You may recall receiving a heart in the mail a little while ago?” asked the Belgian. Myfanwy nodded noncommittally. Thomas had received it, but she’d read about it.
    “Yes, well, that was mine.”
    Myfanwy took a moment to process this information. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Did you stop by to pick it up?” she asked.
    “No, I am sorry—I do not think I have explained well enough. I have grown myself